


Lover Dearest

by AlexaMondragon



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Black Fox Yennefer, Brief Mentions of Yennefer, Carrier!Jaskier, Emergency Cesarean delivery, Eskel - Freeform, Eskel may be in love with the bard, Fox Jaskier, Geralt is an idiot, Geralt is tired, Hurt Jaskier, I love hurting myself like this, Jealousy, M/M, Mentions of Smut, Mpreg, OFC - Freeform, Past Geralt/Jaskier, People that can transform are called Beasts, Roach the Horse has more common sense, This is sad now, Vulpine Jaskier, White Wolf Geralt, Wolf!Eskel, angst with happy ending, beasts - Freeform, no beta we die like men, original children - Freeform, possessive geralt, protective Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexaMondragon/pseuds/AlexaMondragon
Summary: Ten years after driving the annoying, yipping, stubborn fox of a bard, he hears the impossible and sees his mistakes come to bite him in the arse.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 47
Kudos: 707
Collections: Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	1. Discovery

Geralt watches from the highest point of the Hill, far away from the family, far enough that his scent won’t be caught, his keen eyes on them and he also keeps watch of the surrounding area. Making sure nothing comes to bother the little family on the field, wanting to sprint and protect them the moment the situation turns undesirable. Geralt wonders how the bard survived for so long considering he attracts danger wherever he steps foot on. But seeing him laughing and healthy, he’s never been so glad. He watches as the pups jump onto each other and nip playfully on each other’s ears. Their birth parent watches with fond amusement and love in his cornflower-blue eyes.

Geralt felt his chest freeze and constricts, remembering how those eyes looked upon the Witcher. Full of love and adoration. He feels a familiar present coming up behind him, but he doesn’t chance them a glance, not wanting to take his eyes off the little family.

“They’re beautiful, Geralt,” Yennefer comments quietly, her black vulpine form next to the snow-white wolf. Her eyes also on the hopping puppies as their laughter is heard from down below. Geralt’s ears turn to them more attentively, saving the sweet sounds to memory.

Yennefer observes them with a more critical eye, the pups couldn’t be more than ten years old, yet their wolf forms make their birth parent look like a common housecat. She watches as their birth parent evade every grasp from his pups with the speed that their species is known for. His tawny fur shining under the sun and his posture carefree. Which is odd, considering how long she’s known him to travel around with Geralt, now ten years later with three white wolf pups. She would’ve seen the signs of his ageing in his vulpine form at the very least, but no, he seems as healthy as the first time she met him all those years ago.

If those pups are truly Geralt’s, then he’ll never live long enough to see them age as old as he’ll get, if they keep ageing years after years and then it’s probably because they’re not meant for the Path. Which she’ll know it will ultimately destroy the White Wolf. Their sire will outlive his own children. And what a heartbreak it’ll be to say goodbye.

Yennefer glances to her companion and makes a soft huff. “What I don’t understand is, why aren’t you down there? It’s clear even to the blind how much you yearn to be down there with them.” She wants him to spend as much time he has left with the bard that he obviously still cares about. Even after everything.

Geralt shakes his head, “After what I’ve said to him? I’m…I’m too much of a coward to face him now. I don’t want to scare them into hiding. As long as I get to see them even from afar, that’s enough.” He answers briskly. A low growl escapes from him, his muzzle a little lower and ears twitching. A whine he knows is trapped in his throat, refusing to let it out. Too stubborn and proud for his own good.

“Besides, he’s safe at least, safer than he could ever be with me.” He continues tightly.

Yennefer releases a soft sigh from her nose, looking back at Jaskier as he nips and jumps around the three white wolf pups, his lilting laughter filling the air along with the pups. Jaskier’s slimmer form twisting and turning around the pups, making them look clumsy on their legs and larger size. Her eyes soften when they tease each other, the fallen pup gets an affectionate lick to the muzzle from Jaskier and a soft nip to the ear.

They continue to prance around with each other before one of the pups decided to stop and release a loud and proud howl to the open air. She can feel Geralt straightening up, tensing and his ears forward to the howl. How rare it is to hear a genuine howl from another wolf, not from another common dog or werewolf. Geralt’s answering howl is denied as he chokes it up, not wanting to expose his and Yennefer’s position. All three pups now in melodic harmony with each other as each individual howl emits three different tones. It’s beautiful, and Jaskier thinks the same as he closes his eyes and holds his head up high, listening to his pups’ music. 

Geralt grits his teeth, clamping his mouth shut as he stifles the howl threatening to escape. He can’t, he can’t, _HE CAN’T_! And he _WON’T_! He won’t let them see him. He’s not ready to lose them a second time, he’s confident he won’t survive if they disappear from him now. This is his punishment.

This is his punishment.

Yennefer watches Geralt denies himself contact with the children and she feels for her companion. Learning of their existence for the fortnight since they’ve arrived at this part of the world, seeing the disbelief when he heard talk of the townsfolk of a vulpine mother with three white wolf pups. She had seen him quickly leave town, find a secluded place in the woods to tie Roach to and transformed as fast as possible before sprinting to the woods, looking for the evidence if what they whisper about is true. The townsfolk had to have known how rare wolf beasts are, especially ones with white colourations. How extremely rare these people are.

He was determined to find these white wolf pups. Desperate to find if the vulpine mother is who he thinks it is, despite the impossibility.

He had to know the truth.


	2. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of a flashback.

10 years ago, 7 months later.

It was cold in the little burrow that Jaskier found in the forest a mile away from the nearest little village. His fur not thick enough to protect him from the biting chill of winter and his little body can provide as much body heat as it can, which was close to none. It was months after that blasted mountain fiasco. Storming off as far and as fast as he can. Wanting to get away and gain as many miles between them as possible. He could still feel the phantom pain in his paws from running for almost a week straight. His body crashed in exhaustion near a town, ways, away from the little village he’s in now. It’s the town they’ve stopped a rampaging Bruxa. They didn’t know how it got into the middle of town undetected, but they suspected it got smuggled in.

Jaskier wrapped his, not so bushy, tail around himself and his precious cargo. The chill seeped into the soil he’s on and the hunger sets in. His body shaking from fatigue and the unkind season depletes him of any energy to catch small animals for himself, now four of them. His heart still broken and he refuses to let it heal. Letting it fester to hate and damning the Witcher, but he knows that he can’t keep lying to himself, not when the evidence proves otherwise.

His precious lute just behind him, trying his best in protecting it from the cold. When he ran away from the mountain and the pain, he let out the most painful cry heard for miles. His voice carries through the forest he found himself in. The birds around him fly in fright from the sudden commotion and he could hear distinct howls of the wild wolves in a distance. They must’ve recognised a painful and sorrowful wail when they hear one and decided to accompany the broken individual. To keep him from being lonely.

Better than their larger, slightly, in Jaskier’s opinion, advanced counterpart. The fool that he is.

Jaskier tried to keep himself afloat for the next few months before his appearance brings unwanted attention. Keeping as many coins from his many travels around the region closest to him. Knowing he needs to find a suitable abode to stay in before his little ones’ arrival. But, there’s only so much he can sing about, and he refuses to sing anything regarding the White Wolf of Rivia. And there’s only so many towns that don’t view him as a homewrecker to almost everyone in the vicinity.

Whatever he gets, he kept it like a dragon, fucking dragons, protect its gold.

In the end, it could only kept him fed enough and seeing the healer to get any herbs to drink for the little ones. He’s not sure how many he’s carrying, this was his dream before it was taken, more like stolen from him. This predicament he was in was proof of their love for each other, but obviously, it was true only for him. Just him and not the other party.

He lets out a pitiful whine as his stomach grumbles and tightens against his abdomen. The pups barely moving, which worried him to no end, seeing that his last meal was a freshly killed venison miles away from his little burrow, the pack of wolves that killed it was still around, but he ate as much scrap as his little mouth could take and it had kept them fed for a couple of weeks.

Staying in his vulpine form makes travelling easier, but also tiring. And all the little rodents are suddenly a lot harder to catch compared to when he was still living with his mother. But that felt like a hundred years ago. He can’t even recall his mother’s face, just flashes and the phantom scent of flowers whenever he gets a familiar floral whiff from his travels. He also recalls she smells of the ocean.

One day, when his pups are grown enough, he’ll take them to the sea. The open-air would do them some good.

His consciousness is slipping little by little as the black spots in his vision grew, his paws numb and the pups are still. He lets out a heart-breaking cry and yowls, “No, no, no, no, no, don’t be dead, Darlings. I haven’t the chance to meet you yet. Please, please, please, stay strong for me _._ ” He pleads, his voice hoarse and throat dry, his tears sliding down his cheeks and ears pressed to his skull.

“I wish to take you to the sea. I want you to see golden sands and clear blue skies. I want to write songs and ballads about how mischievous you are, little ones.”

He pleads, but they stayed still. His vision blurring and he could barely hold his head up as his body grows heavy. His breathing laboured as his abdomen suddenly tightens and he loses consciousness after he hears distinct footsteps in the snow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jaskier woke up to feeling empty. His surroundings are different and with what little strength he has, he blinks and forced himself to focus more. The room he’s in is lightened by a single candle on a table a fair bit away from his bed. A slightly itchy bed, but a bed with pillows and a thick fur blanket over him, keeping him warm in the slightly chilly room. Next is, he caught a familiar, metallic smell. He lifts his head with great ordeal and sees the bloodied sheets in a basket next to where he’s lying.

He starts to panic a bit when his stomach twinges with a sharp pain and he brings his, he’s surprised that he sees his human hand instead, he brings his hand to his stomach and felt a scar running down his abdomen, already stitched and... Cold dread fills his being as he feels around for his pups. The tears and the shaking came when he felt his definitively _flat stomach._

_No…no, no, no, no! NO!_

The wail in his throat was let out in pure anguish as he screamed out into the room, he wished for everyone to hear his agony. The candle shook on the table, making the light flicker as he cried out his devastation for the world to hear as his tears ran like rivers down his face.

_My pups… My babies… My little miracles…_

His distraught blinded him, he didn’t hear the door to the room opened and someone shouting at him, pleading him to stop. Jaskier continues to scream aloud, his heart torn from his chest, his spirit destroyed. He stopped when the person that barged into the room grabbed him by the shoulders and brought him to a soft chest. A woman’s chest. He brought his arms up to their shoulders and grips them hard, his screams muffled in their dress, his tears wetting the clothes, his whole body shaking.

A hand runs through his hair, mumbling something he couldn’t decipher, his entire being not at the moment as he tried desperately to remember the feel of his pups being inside him. Kicking his stomach, stepping on his bladder and dancing on his spleen. Tried so hard to remember the first time one of them pushing against the skin of his stomach, tried to remember the flutter he felt whenever they moved.

“Ssshhh, ssshhh, it’s alright, Lad. It’s alright.” The woman coos and tried to comfort the bard enough to talk to her. Jaskier’s screaming ceased bit by bit and his shaking lessens. But the tears didn’t stop flowing. The woman continues to run soothing, caring hands in his hair and back, her scent comforting and safe from the reality of his. Pine and petrichor, that’s what she smells like. A familiar scent, reminding him of the dirt and trees around his little burrow. Bringing him back to reality. He opens his eyes and gently lifts his head.

He sees kind maroon eyes staring back at him, her round face surrounded by her dark auburn hair. Her smile was warm and motherly as she soothed him still, the atmosphere calming down now.

“There ya go, lad. Take a deep breath fer me, will ya?” She encouraged. Voice a unique lilt to it that Jaskier rarely hears and he did what she told him to do. He calms further, but he knows that the moment he lets her go, the anguish will come back like a tidal wave.

“D’you think you want to know how ye got here?” She inquires gently, arms still around his shoulders and Jaskier nods minutely.

“Well, long story short, I found ye a little worse for wear and I brought ye here. I noticed that yous were too skinny a lad and that yer expectin’. I did the very best I can since it looks like the little ones are in need of outside assistance. So, I got them out as fast and safely as I can, they’re fine, lad. A wee bit on the smaller side, but they’re strong.”

Jaskier takes in a sharp breath and his eyes light up in hope.

“C-can I see them?! I n-need to see them! Let me see them, please!” He pleads, begs, desperate to see his babies with his own eyes. His grip on her arm bruising, but he doesn’t care right now.

“Alright, alright, lad. Hold yer horses, I’ll bring ‘em in.” She gently pried his hands from her arms and left the room swiftly. Jaskier could feel the tears building up in his eyes, his entire being brought back to life with the news of his pups’ survival. He couldn’t believe it! His puppies are alive! He’s going to see his puppies! He buries his face in his hands and lets out a quiet sob.

He hears the floor creak and swiftly looks up to see the good woman bringing a soft-looking blanket of fur to him. He almost jumps off the bed when the twinge in his stomach tells him otherwise, his hands itching to hold his pups.

She gently lies them in his arms and he carefully lifts the fur blanket to see three slightly larger than fox kits, puppies in his arms. Their fur grey with little white, but he’s positive that they’ll all grow into their white colouration. He giggles a bit when one of the pups snuffles a sneeze out and they all start to squirm like little wriggling caterpillars. He brings them up to his nose and Jaskier starts scenting his pups, transferring his scent unto them and he catches the familiar scent of wildflowers and firewood on them. His eyes start to water again and he sobs quietly to his pups.

Promising them love and protection with all of his being. Being there for them when their sire failed to be next to him. They’ll grow big and strong, he promises to himself and his pups. Kissing each of them on their tiny foreheads to seal his promise.

“My little darlings. My little miracles. My little white wolves.” He coos sweetly to them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will bring Geralt back into the story in the next chapterrrr. Purr purr.


	3. The Search

Lover Dearest chp.3

Present

Geralt continues to spend months going back and forth between the Path and his little family. He comes back every two to three weeks to check on them. He once followed their tracks to a little cabin in the woods. He snarls at the scent of another person in there with his family and decided to spy who the other resident is. He kept still in the foliage, far enough away his scent won’t be caught. One afternoon three days later, he sees the other occupant. Female, short and round but her scent is comforting and he relaxes a little when he sees his pups in their human form running around her, picking up herbs and other plants.

Instantly Geralt knows this is a witch, but unlike Yennefer, this one seems content with what she has, and Geralt can’t smell the scent of decay or danger on her. That was also the first time Geralt sees his children’s human form. He has two boys and one girl, all possessing the same snow-white hair he has. He could see, just barely, but he’s sure that his daughter has Jaskier’s cornflower-blue eyes.

He leaves once he’s assured that they’re in safe hands. Then, he notices that every two weeks, Jaskier leaves the forest in his bright clothing and go from town to town. Never too far away from his children. Sometimes he’ll be back in a week with coin and food for them. One time he didn’t receive enough coin for food and necessities, so Jaskier was gone for nearly a month at the time. Geralt’s worry ate him as he didn’t know how that bard was faring, but he secretly brings fresh-killed venison and little mammals for the pups, he makes sure to wash himself and the food to rid of his scent. Always leaving as soon as the food is dropped near their cabin. He knows that Jaskier will always come home to his children, not wanting to risk them being orphaned because of his carelessness.

Jaskier never suspected a thing.

One day, after successfully memorizing their daily life schedule, he came a week early because winter is setting in soon. He doesn’t want his little family to freeze and get sick because of the weather. He skinned and packed as many portions of meat and fur pelts he and Roach can carry. Trekking through the already ankle-deep snow, worried that he’s come a little late to give the blankets and food, but when he got closer to the little cabin, he notices that there are no sounds coming from it. A cold dread runs down his spine when he hears no heartbeats, nor laughter or the occasional yell of exasperation.

He drops his cargo and sprints, he runs to the cabin and there’s still no sound coming from it. He bangs on the door and he snarls in frustration at the wait, he rams it once and bursts in, fear gripping his heart that some beast has caught them when he played hero somewhere else. His breath came out laboured when he sees no signs of blood or struggles in the little cabin.

“Jaskier!”

He strides in, categorizing the scents around him and breathes in deep when he caught Jaskier’s apple cider, rose and a new scent that clings to him. Making Geralt’s chest rumble in pleasure and he recognizes the smell like milk and honey. A maternal pheromone clings to the sheets left in a room he ventured in. He suspects that this was Jaskier’s room. The sheets of paper on the nightstand containing songs that Jaskier wrote. Some about a daring man, a rude Witcher who Geralt suspects he recognizes. And one of Eskel, his close companion and one to resemble him apart from the hair. He grits his teeth when he read the lyrics of how Jaskier paints him as charming and a general gentleman. He shuffles through more songs about Eskel and _his_ adventures and Geralt bristles.

He grips the papers tight in his hands, crumpling it before tearing it apart. Eskel maybe his closest companion in Kaer Morhen, but now he poses a threat as Geralt’s competitor for Jaskier’s affections. This is the result of leaving Jaskier for so long. Anyone with eyes can see how wonderful Jaskier is, anyone would want him next to them. He was the fool that let him leave.

He shakes his head and continues his investigation around the room, he checks the drawers and sees that a lot of Jaskier’s clothes are gone. He concludes that he and the children left with the witch to somewhere.

He closes the drawer and walks around the cabin, spotting a room with three beds, the space between the beds wide enough to let separate dressers in between. He caught the scent of each individual child in the room and he breathes in deep of their pure scent. One smell of dandelions and the salt of the sea, he chuckles at that and another smells of berries and fruits. But the last one, the last one smells of steel, leather and a bit of smoke. He worries that one of his children must’ve meant for the Path. He recognizes the scent of another Witcher anywhere. He worries that one of his children might be a Witcher, but there’s never _been_ a documented case of children inheriting Witcher abilities. He doesn’t know what the chemicals that made him who he is will become if passed on to his children.

If he’s given the Gifts, then he fears if left unattended. If left to fester and grow, it could drive him to hurt people around him. Especially a wolf Beast Witcher. He needs to find them. Fast.

He strides outside and freezes when he catches another scent, this one closer to the entrance and different from the witch his family is staying with. He takes a deep breath and his blood boils when he recognizes Eskel’s scent, the other wolf smelt faintly of ash, earth and apples. He snarls and quickly leaves the cabin, he leaves the many furs in the house, quickly fixes the door and he sets his plan on finding Jaskier, his children and maybe pommel Eskel to the ground for daring to court _his_ bard.

He should’ve looked for him, he should’ve apologized. He’ll beg for his bard’s forgiveness. On his hands and knees if he has to. He can’t lose him again, he can’t afford to lose _them_. He knows that with the cold, people tend to find a new, warmer territory, and Geralt has an inkling on where Jaskier has gone to. He sets Roach in a direction and gallops to said direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the search begins.


	4. Found

Found

The journey to the coast takes at least three weeks to reach from where he is, but to Geralt, that is a walk across the park. With his family set in his mind and a sack full of food and a thick enough blanket to sleep in the cold snow, he’s set for the long journey. Winters like this lasts months at a time, occasionally a year, and he’s _not_ waiting for his family to come back when he’s able to make the journey to them. He _won’t_ let Eskel spend any more time with them than necessary.

Driven by the desperation to reach his family and anger in his guts, he cuts through the journey half the time estimated to reach the coast. Many nights he spent sleepless and the dark circles under his eyes make him all the more menacing to any traveller he passes by and they quickly evade eye contact with him. He doesn’t fucking care. There are times when Roach refuses to walk as she tires and he nearly wants to leave the horse and continue by paws if he has to. Then she would bump her forehead to his chest and Geralt comes to his senses.

His travel companion is _tired_ and possibly very hungry and by the twisting pain in his stomach, he is too. They’ve been travelling non-stop and Geralt being driven to find his bard and pups, he’s completely neglected the care of his closest travel companion. He’s refused to stop in towns and ignores peoples’ call for a monster problem and Roach’s mane has matted to a dense tangle.

“I’m sorry, girl.” He sighs out tiredly. His shoulders dropping from fatigue and he runs his hands on Roach’s cheeks and mane.

“Let’s go make camp. We’ll rest for the day, and you can eat as much as you can and then we’ll get back on the road. Alright?” The mare snorts gently and nudges her snout to Geralt’s cheek, conveying thanks and most likely offering support. He smirks a bit and thinks, Jaskier would probably kill him if he finds out how much Geralt has neglected Roach. He gives a huff of a laugh, his bard would be horrified.

He walks next to Roach into the woods and makes a stop under a sturdy tree that’s, to their luck, right next to an apple tree. Geralt takes off all the equipment on Roach and she instantly trots to the apple tree, munching happily on the freshly fallen apples around the tree. Geralt takes out whatever food he has left and starts a fire from the branches he collected in the little area. He also takes out a brush and makes his way over to Roach and starts brushing her mane as his dinner starts cooking on the fire. 

They’ve been travelling for a week straight, cutting sleep short for naps and he’s confident that if this continues, he’ll reach the coast in by next week. But he’s also confident that both he and Roach will pass out from exhaustion and will be too weak to look for Jaskier any further. _No,_ he can’t be weak now. He needs to be in shape if he were to reach to his family. He brushes Roach’s mane till it’s nice and softer again and the horse gives a gentle nudge to his hand in thanks.

He walks back to his campfire and sits on the snow. It’s not snowing heavily enough to be too worried this far away from Jaskier’s place, but pups don’t fare well in the snow. And Geralt remembers that Jaskier was a city born. Used to comforts and warmth, his fur not thick enough for the wilderness. But to think that he’s survived these past ten years, his fur must be thick by now. And Geralt can’t wait to be groomed by his bard again. Geralt closes his eyes and remembers the slim figure of Jaskier’s fox form under his gigantic wolf form, how his scent drove Geralt mad with lust and Jaskier’s eyes conveying his feelings for the Witcher. 

Geralt never knew what it meant at the time, never realized how fast his heart skips a beat every time Jaskier grooms him. His fur has never felt so soft under his care and his chest rumbles in pleasure as he remembers how Jaskier in human form would wrap his arms around his neck and give loving kisses to his face after their nightly tryst. He’ll never forget how his heart thunders with fear every time his bard is anywhere near danger, and how possessive he gets whenever someone flirts with Jaskier or when Jaskier flirts with someone else.

Seems like it was a little too late to realize that he’s long fallen for his bard before he drove him away. Such a fool he was. A right bastard he’d been.

But he’ll make right his mistakes. He promises to himself that he’ll be better before he finds his bard. He’s got at least two weeks to work on what to say upon meeting his beloved.

He’ll make it right with his bard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geralt took to travelling a little slower now, stopping once to kill a kikimora terrorizing a wealthy man’s grape plantation and was paid handsomely for his troubles. With a purse full of coins, he makes his way to his bard. He can feel it in his being how close he is to his family again. Just a few more days and he’ll reach the coast.

He needs to plan how exactly he wants to initiate the meeting. He couldn’t imagine that after 10 years Jaskier would be delighted to see him. Let alone still love him. That notion twists an uncomfortable feeling in his chest and he continues forward. He’ll know what to say first when he meets with the bard. Pride be damned.

He was about to pass a little town to the coast and the smell of fish emits in the air, the cold hasn’t reached this part of the region yet, it seems. A familiar twang of a lute stops him dead in his tracks, the melody fills the air and he drops off Roach, grabbing her reins and in a slight mad dash in search for the source of the sound. He pinpoints the sound to a little tavern in the middle of the little village and he looks through the window to see the lightened tavern with Jaskier singing along to a tune he’s playing. One Geralt has never heard before.

Geralt watches, entranced by seeing the Bard 10 years later.

He’s still as youthful as Geralt remembers him. His hair fluffed and soft, his fingers itching to run through it. The sway of his hips driving Geralt crazy, wanting him alone to touch and feel Jaskier again. He watches as the smile on his face lights up the little tavern as his voice sings out the song he’s written about the ranging sea and beautiful mermaids. The lyrics jaunty and the sailor he made out is a fool in love, but could never be together. Never has he ever felt related to a song so much at the moment. He gives one last encore and a flourishing bow, his breath coming out a little laboured but the smile remains. Geralt’s heart thuds loudly in his chest, seeing the bard again filled him with so much joy and relief.

The joy and relief die the moment Eskel comes into the picture next to his bard and putting an arm around him. His blood boils when he sees that his bard leans a little bit on his shoulder. The roar that escapes him when he transforms shook the building as he bursts through the glass windows. He barely registers the cuts he gets and he sees red when Eskel puts the bard behind his protective stance. Geralt charges and bites into Eskel’s arm, intending to tear it from his shoulder and Eskel throws him off. Landing Geralt outside the establishment before he himself transforms and pounces on Geralt.

“CALM DOWN!!” He snarls into Geralt’s ear and the white wolf throws him off of him. They trade nasty bites on each other’s legs and blood spills the street they’re on. Geralt barely registers the screaming people around him as his mind is focused on eliminating the competition. Eskel is as skilled and as strong as the white wolf, but his focus is to protect and pacify, not hurt and possibly kill his friend.

Eskel clamps his teeth on Geralt’s left ear, not intending to rip it off but to subdue him, but it seems that the white wolf is not having it as he twists and shakes his head violently. Trying to throw off the large brown and black wolf. When Eskel releases his hold on Geralt’s ear, the white wolf instantly latches his fangs into Eskel’s side, the other wolf yelps and jumps off the white wolf and he sprints away from the town, bringing the fight far away from innocent people. Geralt gives chase.

Jaskier sprints out to follow them but they’ve already made it out of the small village. He turns and sees Roach, her stance distressed and her ears prick forward when she sees Jaskier. He runs to her, picking up Geralt and Eskel’s torn clothes and armour and quickly grabs the weapons they dropped, hastily depositing them into the bags on Roach’s side and he looks at her in the eye.

“Let me ride you and we’ll get to Geralt quicker.” He urges desperately and the horse whinnies as if telling him to hurry up. Jaskier jumps onto the saddle and they quickly try to catch up to the fighting wolves. Seeing the white wolf again made a familiar ache and longing in his heart. He didn’t think he’ll meet the white wolf again, but his heart skips a beat when he saw the familiar white fur jumping through the window. Now he’s on a hunt as to why he finally seems to have lost his marbles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fight between the two dragged all the way to the coast where Geralt finally caught up to the other wolf and bites onto his back leg. It’s a dirty move, but he’s _not_ willing to lose Jaskier that easily. Eskel skids on the sand and turns to deliver a nasty bite on Geralt’s neck, dragging him to the sand and holds down his large paws on his flank and muzzle.

Geralt flails and snarls, trying to get the other wolf to release him, their blood spilling on the sand and sharp a rock digs itself into Geralt’s stomach but his fury overrides his logic and with all his might he twists on the ground and successfully throws Eskel off him. They stand there on the sand, facing one another, blood and each other’s fur on their muzzle and teeth.

“Fucking, calm down, Geralt!” Eskel growls out, his blood sluggishly flowing from his numerous wounds and Geralt is no better. His white pelt dirtied with gore, dirt and sand, his snarl a nasty look on his face.

“You dare court _MY BARD_ , ESKEL! I thought you were my _friend_.” He growls lowly in his throat, his stance unyielding and ready for another round. But Eskel can see the slight tremors in his arms, Geralt is exhausted, that much he can tell. He just needs to expel that energy without hurting each other even more. He just needs to distract him until Jaskier arrives.

“I _am_ your friend, Geralt! You just need to fucking calm down!” He barks, his breath a little laboured.

“And I am not courting your bard. He’s yours, since the moment you two met.” He countered. Seeing his friend’s pain in his eyes, whether the white wolf notices or not, hurt him. It also hurts to be accused of stealing something precious from him, knowing how much Geralt loves that bard.

“Lies!!” He snarls and charges. His rationality not reaching him at the moment and Eskel tries to evade every bite and claw to the face, trying desperately to tire the white wolf. He tries again to bite one of his ears and fails every time Geralt dives for this throat. He can see how slow the white wolf’s attacks are starting to be, and so was his. But he can’t stop now, knowing if he did, his life will pay for it.

He can hear the distinct thundering of hooves and with a final burst of energy, he bites onto Geralt’s nape and throws him to a nearby boulder, effectively knocking him out.

“Geralt!!” The bard’s scream reaches his ears and Jaskier hops off Roach and makes a run for the remaining space to them. He kneels onto the sand near Geralt’s head and runs worried hands on his head and neck. Assessing the damage.

“He’s fine, Jaskier. He’s just knocked out and exhausted.” Eskel explains, he drops down to the sand in a grunt and starts to take in deep breaths. The fight and adrenaline leaving his physique. He can feel the wounds on his body slowly beginning to heal itself, but the fight has drained any energy out of him. As a Witcher, it’s hard for him to tire, but fighting with another Witcher? That’s a whole other story. Every bite and claw uses a significant amount of energy to hurt and disarm the other Witcher.

Jaskier quickly turns to the other wolf on the ground and gently runs a hand on his head.

“Fuck, Eskel, are you alright?” He fusses over the darker coloured wolf, and Eskel gives a slight nod.

“We need to get you two to the cabin. We need to treat these wounds.” He continues to fuss and Eskel hums in agreement. “I can get up still. I’m not the one dead on my feet.” He huffs and slowly starts to stand on his legs.

“I can probably still drag him to the cabin.” He was getting near Geralt when a hand to his muzzle stops him.

“Ooorrr, we can haul him onto Roach and bring him back to the cabin.” Jaskier counters, his brows raised at the suggestion and a little smile on his lips.

“That’s a sound idea as well.” He chuckles and proceeds to help Jaskier haul the heavy wolf onto Roach’s back. The horse helpfully bends down to make the load easier. They made their way back to the cabin and Eskel can’t help but keep noticing that Jaskier’s hand is always on Geralt’s furry neck. He smirks. That white wolf has a lot of apologizing and explaining to do.


	5. Truth

Truth

Geralt has only brief flashes of consciousness before going under again. The scent of the sea strong in his nose and he relaxes, not feeling any immediate danger and he also must’ve been hallucinating, because he sees Jaskier’s smiling face before him. He weakly tries to communicate, but his throat is dry and his limbs heavy still.

“Jask…” He manages weakly.

Jaskier’s face got a little bit closer to his and his chest rumbles in pleasure as he doesn’t smell anyone else’s scent on him.

“Hello, Geralt.” He coos softly. The candlelight giving Jaskier a soft ethereal glow on his face. Making Geralt’s heartache at how painful it is that he’s wasted 10 years without the bard. A soft whine that he kept trapped in his throat finally escapes, then feeling Jaskier’s hand running across his neck and shoulder.

“I’m … so sorry.” He struggles to let out. He couldn’t waste this opportunity, even if this is some kind of fever dream his starvation and fatigue is playing at him. He needs to let it out, to let himself go of this heavy burden he carries in his heart. He so desperately wants to hold his bard. To let him know how much he’s regret letting him leave. How much he didn’t mean what he said.

“Save your breath, Geralt of Rivia. You need to rest.” Jaskier gently orders and Geralt doesn’t want to close his eyes and lose Jaskier from his sight. Not again! His whine intensifies before he felt Jaskier’s arms wrap around his neck and his face pressed close to his furry cheek.

“D-don’t disappear. D-don’t leave!” He chokes, trying to move any part of his body, to wrap himself around the bard and never let go.

“Sssshhh, sssshhhh, I’ll be here still. I’m not going anywhere. Geralt, please! You need to heal!” He whispers desperately. His hold on Geralt tight, but not too constricting.

“I promise I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll be right beside you.” He buries his face in Geralt’s fur and the warmth of Jaskier’s breath on his skin feels so real. He relaxes minutely into the embrace. If he were to die in this bliss, then he wouldn’t mind it.

“There you go. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” A kiss to the forehead and Geralt slips into slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_He wakes again to soft petting on his forehead to between his ears and the deep rumble in his chest escapes, causing a peal of tinkling laughter filling the air. Geralt’s ears stand to alert and with the energy, he can feel inside himself, he lifts his head and comes face to face with a mirthful smile and bright cornflower-blue eyes._

_“Jaskier…” He breathes out in desperate joy and Jaskier’s hands cup his cheeks and there was a kiss to the forehead._

_“Hello, darling.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Geralt woke up the second time, his wounds are mostly gone and Jaskier has a guarded stature to him. Geralt’s mind is filled with questions, but he also wants to meet his children, but he wants to wrap Jaskier up in his arms, he needs to know how badly he’s hurt Eskel…

“I’m guessing by your expression, you’re curious about what’s going on around you, isn’t it?” Jaskier fills in the silence. Geralt continues to stare at the bard. His face passive, but Geralt is aware that Jaskier knows what he’s feeling. He’s always been good at decoding the Witcher.

Jaskier’s eyes flit away from Geralt’s gaze and turn his focus on his hands instead, intertwined with each other and seemingly in a casual grip when Geralt can see how tense those fingers are holding each other.

“I know that you’re probably wondering how’d this happened, and this was needed to be told sooner or later, it’s just been a longer ‘later’ than I anticipated. You see, Geralt, I’m not exactly human but I’m sure you’ve figured that one out. Well, I’m not _fully_ human. My mother was a fox Beast and my father…” He takes a deep breath. “He’s a royal elf. With powerful magic and all.” He takes a peek at Geralt’s reaction and doesn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed that it stays the same. He takes in a deep breath, lets it out and begins his explanation.

“Geralt, my father was running away from royal duty because he fell in love with a common fox Beast, who you wouldn’t even believe, is part siren. Her family left the sea generations before, but their song stayed with them. And my father’s betrothed came and wanted compensation for the shame he brought to her family, and she put a curse on my mother. Actually me when I was still in the womb. See, she cursed that any of her descendants will never bear or have children, but my father begged her to lift it. She denies, of course, but he made a deal with her.” His voice drops to an almost whisper.

“He promises that he’ll stay true to her, but he can give a blessing for me, her child at the time. He blessed that I would only bear children out of the truest and purest form of love.” He takes in a deep breath, knowing very much that the next thing he says will be petty and a low blow to Geralt, but he’s so tired of holding this in and he wants Geralt to know at least. Whether this is to hurt him or for closure, he doesn’t know. He only knows that it’ll remove this heavy burden in his heart.

“But I guess the ambiguity is…that _I_ experience that truest and purest form of love. It doesn’t matter that the other party doesn’t reciprocate.” He lets out a breath he’s been holding and turns to Geralt. His posture tense and his hands gripping the fur blankets in a white-knuckled grip.

“That’s not fair.” He finally says. And Jaskier is instantly filled with rage, his brows furrow and his lips in a tight line. He seems like he’s about to unleash Hell upon Geralt, but his voice came out slightly shaky and in disbelief. Geralt knows that he’s put his foot within his mouth again and already he can see his mistakes coming back to bite him in the arse.

“Not fair? Is it. Well, what would you know about being ‘not fair’.” He air quotes. Geralt minutely shakes his head, wanting to take those words back. He didn’t mean them! But Jaskier never gives him that chance.

“Staying by your side, singing about your greatness, changing peoples’ perception of you, trying to get us food and a roof over our heads for the nights that we would even _get lucky_ to find a _decent_ enough inn, stayed true by your side for fucking more than 2 bloody decades, and you couldn’t even call me a _friend_. I had to watch you make cow eyes to Yennefer and never have I ever _dared_ to say anything because I could see how much you _cared about her_ even when _she tried to kill_ you that _one_ _time_! I had to watch your heart breaks time and time again as she leaves you in the **_20 years_** _we’ve been travelling together,_ and you’ve only stumbled across her _a quarter_ of those times! I didn’t say anything because I _loved_ you!”

Geralt’s heart lurches at the use of the past tense. His body running cold and his voice caught in his clogged up throat. He feels like there is water around him and he’s drowning worryingly fast, filling up his lungs and muffling the sounds around him. He could only hear the rush of his own blood in his ears and the heavy and staccato beat of his heart. Jaskier’s bitter hurt and wrath scent reaching and attaching itself into the depths of Geralt’s brain, making him want to throw up from how awful the pheromone is, choking him up further into this endless, echoing pain that he’s found himself in. He didn’t mean that! HE DIDN’T MEAN THAT!! 

Jaskier abruptly stands up, tears in his eyes that he’s too stubborn to let fall for a man that obviously can’t love anyone else but his _one_ obsession.

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me about ‘ _being fair’_ when you can’t even begin to _grasp_ what it _means_.” He grits out, white teeth glinting sharp and dangerous in the candlelit room. He turns and almost makes a run to the door to get out of the situation as fast as he can. He wrenches open the wooden barrier and leaves, only to face-plant into a broad chest. He looks up to see Eskel and he gives the softest of sniffles before he turns and leaves.

Eskel looks to where Jaskier has run off to then turn his eyes to the source of his pain. Sighing when he sees Geralt just sitting there stone still. His disappointment palpable in the air without even taking a whiff of it. And Geralt was ready for the verbal lashing to come from the usually calm and collected Witcher.

“Let’s go take a walk, White Wolf of Rivia.” He exhales tiredly. He runs a hand down his scarred face and walks away, not even looking back to see if he followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geralt follows the other Witcher out of the cabin, noticing that not even a peep from the children was heard anywhere. He strains his ears to catch any noise from his children and was disappointed that nothing came up.

“They’re not here currently if you’re wondering,” Eskel answers Geralt’s unasked question. His face still forward, not even giving Geralt a glance. The white wolf glowers a bit and follows him a little bit more despondently. They leave the little cabin and Geralt can see the coast just a few walking distances away. The sun warming up the sand as the sea sways in the gentle breeze. Geralt follows Eskel to the woods located just behind the cabin and he can see that Eskel has taken out a dagger and another one, turning around and handing the other one to Geralt.

“Food is a little hard to find the nearer you are to the coast, but some deer or the occasional lone buck travels around these parts,” Eskel tells him, mind focus on the hunt. Geralt slowly falls into this familiar routine and they were able to track a healthy buck from quite a distance from the cabin. His mind clearer now that he’s more awake and aware of his surroundings and situation. He winces at how idiotic he sounded when he reiterates the earlier conversation with Jaskier.

They were skinning and cutting up the buck when Eskel starts the conversation that Geralt dreads.

“So, that was a rather loud conversation.” He starts rather casually. His focus still on the venison before them. Geralt turns a mild glare to Eskel, not appreciating the eavesdropping, but Eskel only smirks, “I don’t need an enhanced hearing to listen to what Jaskier was saying.”

Geralt sighs, “I’ve…made things worse than I intended.” He admits. His eyes hard and his cut on the deerskin getting jagged and uneven. Eskel contemplates to contribute what he feels in the situation but knowing very much that this is between Jaskier and Geralt. But he’s as much involved in this now more than ever since he has decided all those years ago to look after the bard after Geralt pushed him away. Vowed himself at the time to be present for the little ones while Geralt fulfils his duty in another part of the world.

~Flashback~

_Eskel laughs wholeheartedly when Kamila jumps on his back and roars, pretending to be the monster that Eskel agreed to be in their little play. Her little hands gripping on the fabric of his shirt and he carefully ‘wrestles’ her off his back, swiftly bringing her to his front and he blew kisses on her cheek and stomach. The little 7-year-old squealing in delight._

_The twin boys, Morgan and Ragnar are prepared to save their sister and attacks both of Eskel’s legs, their bites barely penetrating his trousers and the brunet falls in fake death, catching the boys in his arms before landing on top the pups instead._

_“If I were to die today, I’m taking you with me!” He growls out, the deep rumble of his voice sends the pups in a laughing mess and Eskel buries his face into their fair hair and tummies. The scent of milk and ocean washes over his senses and makes him relaxed._

_“Nooooooo Eskel geroff!! Hahahhaha!” Kamila tries pushing his head off her little body but the brown wolf will not be moved. The pups’ energy seemed to have vanished in a fit of tired giggles. They’ve been at this game for hours, Jaskier being away for the week and it’s just Eskel and Mordred. She’s been a saint when she offered her cabin for Jaskier and the pups to stay in. The piebald beaver with warm maroon eyes fell in love with the little family and Eskel was never more grateful to anyone before, if she had kicked them out a few months after their births, he would’ve subjected them to life on the road, if he ever finds them before Geralt did, and Jaskier was still licking his wounds from that blasted mountain disaster._

_He actually wanted to find Geralt after that incident and to find him, he needs to find the bard. He found himself in a little town near the woods he just exited and finding Jaskier is as easy as finding a snow-white rabbit in winter._

_The bard really didn’t want to be found, but following his nose, he recognises the distinct scent of firewood, wildflowers and rain. He follows the scent deep into the woods with Scorpion trotting behind him. He treks the scent all the way to the cabin, just outside of it he could see the Bard with at least three swaddled bundles in his arms. Sitting outside in the rare rays of the sun. His complexion a little pale and he’s giving off hurt and despair pheromones in the air. The babes in his arms asleep are unaware of their parent’s melancholy. He approaches and the moment he sees the white hair and the wetness on Jaskier’s cheeks, he vowed to look after them if their sire can’t._

_They heard the crack of a broken branch and they all turn to look at the source and see Jaskier emerging from the trees, his face triumphant and they knew that he had a successful week of performance and he can hear the distinctive jingling of a purse full of coins. Eskel felt warm from the inside when Jaskier joins them on the grass their thighs touching and shoulders bumping against one another, the pups diverting their attentions between the two adults._

_Jaskier runs his nose in his pups’ hair and his cornflower-blue eyes on Eskel and he places his head on Jaskier’s. The familial bond thrum in their hearts, but Eskel knows that Jaskier still cries silently at night for another wolf. Eskel was enough to quieten his cries and fill in his sorrow in whatever way he could. But Jaskier was never truly his._

_He was enough for Jaskier._

_~End flashback~_

“How long have you known about them?” Geralt’s question catches Eskel off guard. His attention snapping back to the finally skinned and equally cut deer. He packs them in a sack he brought with him and Geralt carries the pelt. Eskel still tight-lipped on the answer and Geralt was growing annoyed.

“I found them a few months after their birth.” He finally answers. His back to the white wolf which he’ll look back to and chide himself at how idiotic he’s left himself open to a wounded and hurting wolf Beast. He felt more than he saw Geralt’s rage when the wolf takes him by the shoulders and slams him to a nearby fir tree. His handsome face twisted in an ugly snarl and halfway through a transformation.

“And you didn’t fucking think to TELL ME?!” He roars out. His breath coming out laboured, nostrils flared and nails digging into Eskel’s shoulders, but Eskel gives no emotional response. His face obscure of any emotion but his scent grew sharp and prickly, protective.

“Jaskier deserves better. Those pups deserve better.” He states calmly, but his hands fisted at his side. _He deserves me._ His mind whispers to him possessively.

“You don’t have the right.” He growls deeply. His hands strained to keep a strong hold on Eskel’s shoulders, controlling himself from killing the other wolf.

“And you do?” He argues, his brows furrow in an angry arch and his scent growing bitter.

“After all the shit you’ve said to him? I think we both know how much he’s worth to you, White Wolf.” The words stab at Geralt’s heart.

“Don’t you _dare_ patronize me about how much worth Jaskier is to me! You wouldn’t know how much he’s worth to me!”

“How worth it is he, Geralt?! After he had the pups? After pushing him away and not even _tried_ looking for him in the _10 bloody years_ I’ve spent with him? How worth it is he to you, Geralt of Rivia?” He bites back, his temper finally snapped.

“More than you could understand!” He roars, but he knows deep down how right Eskel is but he’s not willing to listen to it.

“I’ll believe it if you could prove it, White Wolf.” He snarls back, roughly pushing Geralt off him and walks back to the cabin, leaving Geralt to stew in his own anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooooooooooooooooo sorry that this is not the ending!!! The chapter got a bit longer than I anticipated and had to be cut in half. I promise that the ending will be in the next chapter!! Your comments are lovely and they mean so much to me! I love you guys sooo much!!! XOXOXOXOXO


	6. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs to listen to when reading this chapter. 
> 
> Abandoning Sunday - Couldn't hurt to try, learning to lose, in your dreams (Hella good)  
> Lewis Capaldi - One, Don't get me wrong, forever.  
> Camilla - Consequences  
> Ed Sheeran - All of the stars 
> 
> Recommended reading in the dark with earphones. Bring tissues.

Consequences

Jaskier wipes the tears from his eyes. He was briskly walking to where he knew the pups and Mordred were. He needs to get away from the stressful atmosphere his room was becoming. After 10 years, and Geralt manages to ruin that reunion with that idiotic proclamation. Never has he ever felt so betrayed, apart from the previous disaster, and such indignation. Geralt was being unfair! How was he being unfair? Granted he it’s because he hid such a big thing from him, but he wanted Jaskier gone anyways! Jaskier was only doing him a favour! How the bloody fuck was he being unfair?! If Geralt ever felt guilty enough to look for him now, well he’s a little too late to ask for forgiveness. 10 years too late in fact.

But Jaskier is lying to himself.

He knew that deep in his heart that he’ll always be happy if Geralt ever came back to him, he knows how much of a fool he is. But this isn’t about that man and him anymore. He has the pups to think about, and he’s pretty sure they’re attached more to Eskel. He doesn’t know how to explain this to his children that the sire that didn’t want them, well him, wants to be involved with them. Jaskier can feel an oncoming headache approaching and he’s powerless against it. Jaskier can’t imagine that they’ll grow attached to him like how they had imprinted on Eskel.

The brown-haired Witcher is a blessing. He came when Jaskier was at his most unsightly and it was unbecoming of him to show anyone the most un-charming parts of him. But he took one look at Jaskier’s gross and tear-stained face along with his children and decided to stick around. He took a place next to him where a white-haired Witcher was supposed to be and decided that Jaskier is worth 10 years of his time. Never has Jaskier heard a complaint from the Witcher, just silent reassurance and encouraging comments every now and then.

Him being there makes it easier to care for three mutant children and providing every necessity that they could ever need. Always beating Jaskier to them when they fuss late at night, Eskel slept in front of the fireplace with a blanket and whatever linen and pillow that Mordred had at the time. Only going away for a month and stays around every three weeks with them and with whatever coin he has, he bought food and clothing for the children and the occasional silk shirt for Jaskier. It was an awkward few months when they were finding their footing, but after Jaskier practically kicked Eskel out to go monster hunting to keep himself on his Path, he made a good choice that time when Eskel came back a month later fresh with new determination in his eyes.

It stayed that way for a couple of years before Jaskier and Eskel grew closer. Opening up to a Witcher that was in ways like the previous Witcher he was with was a challenge. Few times Jaskier has to tell himself that Eskel is _not_ Geralt. Sure they may be quiet and use monosyllabic noises to communicate, but they couldn’t be any more different from each other. Where Geralt glares and growls, Eskel huffs in quiet astonishment and only glares playfully at Jaskier, Geralt punches him to scare him away, Eskel pinches his cheek when asked to follow on his Path. Where Geralt was reluctant to give any input in his songs, Eskel at the very least tries to contribute.

Jaskier shakes his head out if his musings to see his children at the little cove they discovered and calls their own. He smiles when they turn their attention to him and calls him over to them. He goes with a big smile on his face, hiding his migraine perfectly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eskel treks through the little forest and dumps the bounty at the fireplace before removing his clothes and transforming, intent on finding the family under his protection. His nose leads him to their little cove with Jaskier holding and caressing Ragnar’s hair, his head pillowed on Jaskier’s lap as they bask in what little sunlight that passes through the gaps in the clouds. The cold still lingering in the air, but the coast keeps them warm enough.

He trots to the family and Kamila and Morgan immediately runs to greet him, he lets them pounce on his flank and nip his ears and the fur around his neck, he does the same to them albeit being careful of his strength in his bites.

“Who was that white wolf you brought with you? Is he the friend you told us about? Is he awake now? Can we see him?” Kamila fires question after question to Eskel and he only licks her forehead, leaving sloppy drool behind before she shrieks in disgust and leaps into the seawater. Leaving him with gentle Morgan.

“Is he the one that mother doesn’t want to say the name of?” Ever the sharp one Morgan is. His question leaving Eskel with nothing to say, but Morgan nods his head in understanding. This is a topic they need their mother to tell them. The two wolves made their way to Jaskier and Ragnar, the pup only peeking at them through one open eye before closing it again. Eskel is reminded again of whose children these are. Ragnar is the more stoic of the three, though occasionally would ‘puppy out’, as Jaskier teasingly points out when he’s together and in the mood to play with his siblings. But Ragnar kept telling them it’s for hunting practice. Which they also indulge to, but Jaskier knows that Eskel has been taking Ragnar to hunts recently. Mostly tracking little game and occasionally a buck, but Ragnar is never in danger with Eskel. He shows potential and Eskel is ever proud of him.

He trots over to them as Morgan turns direction and starts play fighting with Kamila in the shallow parts of the water. Eskel lies on the sand next to the two and lies his head on Ragnar’s stomach, knowing he likes the contact. He feels his hand running through his fur and a deep rumble emits from his chest. Jaskier’s hand joins his son’s and they both run comforting hands through Eskel’s brown coarse fur. Eskel takes in the atmosphere and basks in their warmth.

 _Safe, warm, family, mine._ The mantra repeats itself in his head as their scents waft into his nose; content and safe and happy.

“That wolf is our sire isn’t he?” Ragnar quietly whispers out, the breeze does little to muffle his voice. Jaskier takes in a deep breath and releases it slowly. He runs a hand on his oldest son’s forehead and nods.

“I’ll tell you all about him at dinner. How’s that? I just want to have a quiet time with my family at the moment.” Jaskier bargains with his son and he nods, his face a little grim like a certain Witcher and Eskel drags his nose under the boy’s chin in comfort. Ragnar acknowledging the gesture with a slight tilt on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night at the fire, as dinner was cooking Mordred runs her fingers through Kamila’s hair and tying it into a simple braid as Jaskier tells them everything there is to know of the other white wolf. He’s only ever told stories about Geralt in a third person context, never hinting that he personally, intimately, knew the Witcher. That their colouration was because of their uniqueness. They never asked any more of it and Jaskier thought, feeling guilty with the lies, he’ll them the truth when they’re a little bit older.

They know what a Witcher is and what it entitles, and they all suspect that Ragnar is one. He accepts the knowledge willingly, but the pair knew that he doesn’t fully comprehend what being a Witcher is. But he has plenty of time to learn and Eskel will teach him all that he knows.

“So he just…pushes you away? That’s not fair. It wasn’t your fault, Papa.” Kamila’s voice was quiet, but it carries like a war cry in the silence that’s surrounding them.

“Sometimes I think it is, sweetheart. But then I wouldn’t have you if it weren’t for him.” He smiles reassuringly at his children and he feels Ragnar leaning his head just a little heavier on Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier turns his head to him and runs his nose lightly in his fair hair.

“Did he come to apologize? If he did then he can leave after.” Morgan says vehemently, his blue eyes dark and stormy as the raging sea. Jaskier tisks at his boy and lightly flicks his forehead.

“Maybe he did, but he’s still your sire. Maybe he wants to get to know his children. He at least deserves that.” Jaskier lightly chides him. Feeling Eskel’s arm wrapping around his waist and resting at the small of his back.

“Do you think he’ll come to love us if we want to get to know him?” Kamila’s question breaks the bard’s heart. Cursing at the white-haired Witcher for making his own children fear him.

“I’m sure he’ll love you the moment he knows you. All of you.” He turns to the children and they give solemn nods. They start eating soon after and the pups decide to take a late bath in the sea with Mordred with them, leaving Jaskier and Eskel the much needed alone time to talk regarding their situation. Eskel uses Jaskier’s lap as his pillow and Jaskier instantly runs his hand in his brown hair. His handsome, scarred face peaceful and content. Eskel starts the conversation.

“He loves them already. I know it because of how frequently he keeps coming back to the cabin. I could smell his scent from miles away as he kept watch.” He murmurs.

“Why didn’t you tell me? How long has he been watching?” Jaskier whispers quietly, afraid that his voice would carry into the night and someone else will hear.

“Six months.” He turns his face into Jaskier’s stomach and nuzzles closer. Basking in his sweet scent. But he knows he can’t keep dancing around the subject of why he has kept the both of them a secret from the other. His heart grows heavy and so is his guilt.

“Because I love you, Jaskier.” He admits in the bard’s clothed stomach and turns his face to the sky. The stars his company now, whispering encouragement and strength to him. “I’ve loved you for a while now. It…it was so easy to love you. I was glad that Geralt lost you and I know how selfish that is. But I just couldn’t bear to see you hurt again by him.”

He felt the first droplets of water on his forehead and thought it was going to rain, but the quiet whimpers and sniffles tell him otherwise. He lifts his head to look at Jaskier and the tears running down his cheeks.

“Jaskier, I’m so sorry! I-I know I shouldn’t have kept you apart. It was stupid of m-“He was cut off when soft lips found his. The tears staining his cheeks now and Eskel closes his eyes. Jaskier pulls back, with eyes bright and gleaming with tears, but the smile on his lips say otherwise.

“Be quiet and kiss me.” He chuckles wetly. Eskel doesn’t need to be told twice to comply. Jaskier felt his soul soar and for the first time in years, this kiss they’re sharing is different from the ones they’ve shared during their nightly tryst when one goes lonely for too long. This kiss full of promise and reassurance. And for the first time in 10 years, Jaskier’s heart is filled to the brim with love.

Geralt watches the scene before him. His body frozen behind the line of trees, the dark around him suffocating him, but his anger fled the moment Jaskier pushes his lips to Eskel’s. He retreats into the dark woods, turning his back to them. Only sparing a glance before he walks away morosely. He knows a losing battle when he sees one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to hurt myself like this. Keep an eye out, there could be part two. But I'm planning to make that a long ass one-shot. TTFN kisses and smooches!!! This one will be a little more detailed on Geralt, his relationship with his children and Jaskier and Eskel's relationship with each other. Until then here's the (semi?) ending. (I told chu guys I was gonna keep it short (sorry))

**Author's Note:**

> I just wish to make this story really short and because I want to. heh.


End file.
